A Darkness Chocolate Can't Break
by ToBeAJabberwocky
Summary: Tales of self-torture and the wears of life. Stories from the perspectives of many at once as well as their private sufferings and releases. Depression. Addiction. Medication. Healing. Helping. Love. Darkness. Venom. Regret. HG/SS . HG/RW . SB/RL . SS/OFC . NT/RL
1. Chapter One

_So, I'm just going to come back here from chapter 6 and make an important note._

 _This story is a story created for the author's release. It's not a story that so much follows a line, but instead is an image of my own thoughts with depression and the such. This story circles the war._ _I hope overall that some of you can relate and follow this story as something personally understandable. Though, I hope less of you experience the understood._

 _Enjoy._

 **First HG/SS.**

* * *

 **Chapter One.**

 _ **From the Burrow.**_

She didn't know what it was about him, and honestly, she would just go on blaming puberty.

The dreams?

Puberty.

The flying emotions?

Puberty.

The way she fell under those hard, oil black eyes that belonged to the most hated man that ever held tenure at Hogwarts. Outside Delorus Umbridge of course.

It was puberty. It had to be because within her own logic she knows he is not a good person at all.

But, she wouldn't dwell on that now. She wasn't even at Hogwarts yet; she sat in the living room of her best friend's home inside her own mind, instead of with them.

Alone in a crowded room...

A loneliness she knew all too well. A darkness that had seeped into her skin and broke her soul. A darkness even chocolate couldn't break the bleakness of. They.. the muggles, called it depression. Hermione Granger, with hair as wild as her brilliance and her eyes chocolate brown and so innocent from age, called it a side effect of war.

She was so scared at the world that seemed to be whipping by so fast. She had just learned about the existence of magic its self, but already acted as an experienced warrior in a battle..

She was only 15. _They_ were only 15.

She didn't want this, she never did. But how could she back out..? She had fallen in love with those two boys. Her friends. Her best friends. She loved them in a way where their slightest pain hurt her and all she wanted was to bring Harry to normality and safety. She loved Ron, he was like her brother, fire-hairedired opposite that she couldn't help but to become attracted to.,. How could, after Sirius, after all that, how could she just walk away?

Like he could...

Like he always could; he could turn his back away from every horror and still, he came off hard for sure, but he was alive. And after a time, she found herself wanting just that.

She wanted to learn past his classes and learn how to live without feeling what ravaged her dreams and polluted her days. She wanted his strength. How to go with a wand without an argument and come back with only hours to prepare for class and teach straight through.

But he was not a good man... And Hermione would keep on repeating this in her mind. He was often violently angry with a shorter fuse than a muggle gun. He was verbally abusive and beyond her haze of what she promised herself was puberty, there was nothing at all she liked about him, or that he could give her to make it all worth it.

She had seen him that night.

She had seen him in the courtyard when-

"Hermione?"

Hermione breaks from her thoughts and returns to the living room and to those who sat around her.

Grounding herself again in the Burrow, she glances up to the messy haired hero of her playing story, Harry Potter, who she only guessed the comment was from and shook her head.

"I'm sorry. I'm really, really tired." She explained, running her fingers through her curly hair.

'What we'r you thinking about?" Ron asked as he ripped apart a gummy with his teeth.

"Nothing, just school."

'Oh, come on, Hermione," Fred sighed glancing around before reaching his hand into the couch, "Why didn't you say you needed to relax."

"School is relaxing for me." Hermione breathed but took the glass bottle of low grade alcohol anyway and took a swing once both twins nodded.

"Right." Harry smirked as he took the bottle from her.

Hermione realized the time only then and her daze was broken as the clock struck one am. It's low chime river-bating through the darkened house in the sound of soulful women. Looking back to Harry as he finished his sip and handed the bottle to Ron, she gave another sigh and rubbed her eyes.

"Guys. I'm going to bed." she pushed off the ground with a hard sigh over her cracking knees, saying goodnight before setting off into the darkened house.

"I'm going to bed as well," Ginny sighed after a minute, closing the Quittage magazine she had on her lap and figuring since she wouldn't be allowed to drink, what was the fun of staying?

Hermione was already up the stairs and Ginny would smile and wish her friend a good night as she passed the cracked open bathroom door. She'd slip into the bedroom alone and quickly settled in her own bed, resting her head on her pillow with her back to the door. It took a few more minutes, but when Hermione came in, Ginny kept her eyes closed and didn't say a word, only listened to the tip toe padding of Hermione as she moved across the bedroom. She heard the sound of a placed a cup of water on the bedside table and Ginny waited with all the skill her brothers taught her as she heard Hermione getting in the bed across from her, but didn't hear her lay down all the way.

That night, as Ginny fought sleep behind closed eyes and a comfortable composure as she listened for Hermione who was still sitting up with the blanket over her legs. Instead of falling asleep, against what she had told her friends, she would wait in the light of a single candle, waiting quietly with her book on her lap, eyes blindly on the page, she waited until she heard Ginny's breathing drop to a slow, sleeping breath.

With what little noise she could make, Hermione pulled from under her pillow case an orange bottle marked with a prescription sticker that she covered with her hand. Palming the cap open she flicks two white and blue capsules into her hand before swallowing them with the water. She wouldn't know that Ginny saw her, that the younger girl had faked her sleeping just as her brothers had taught her and had turned over unnoticed to see Hermione taking the pills from the odd orange container.

Unknowing to anything, Hermione would go on to lay down with her back to Ginny and would place her head gently on the pillow without noticing that her friend would watch her until she began to lightly snore.

* * *

 _ **From His Home in Spinners End.**_

Glass bottles were loud, potentially dangerous, and in large numbers, attention-grabbing.

If it wasn't for his magic, he would also complain about the taste of warm toxic, but that hadn't been a problem of his since before he knew how to drink.

But, anything to drink, anything, was better than muggle made poison.

He had given up on shot glasses years ago and drank directly from the always frosted bottle of magic made a drink, his form slouching further against the back of the comfortable armchair.

It was a summer night. It had been a meeting night. But, he was home and he hurt. So, fuck it.

But this was only for tonight. This was only for the inside of his home. Tomorrow, he would sleep off his lessened hangover and would pack for Hogwarts.

His dry spell.

The thought alone turned his stomach as if he had taken a large taste of warm tequila.

He wouldn't be able to drink. He wouldn't be able to indulge in his relaxants. He was to be sober always and at all times but fuck it. For twenty-four hour medical care, safe housing and content exposure expectations, he would be the best sober he could be for the safety it provided.

At Hogwarts, his being was constantly accounted for. At Hogwarts he was safe. At Hogwarts, he had a job. At Hogwarts, he has a future... However bleak of a future was...

This was...

It was a future he was building an obituary for. One that would hopefully outcast his father's disgrace.

He would be a hero. Lily would be proud. And his bloodline would die with the world in light. Albus had promised this all. He promised at least that much.

A final shot.

Not the final smoke.

Severus Snape would then make his way to his bedroom at the top of the stairs, his shoulder sliding against the wall the entire way.


	2. Chapter Two

_So, I'm just going to come back here from chapter 6 and make an important note._

 _This story is a story created for the author's release. It's not a story that so much follows a line, but instead is an image of my own thoughts with depression and the such. This story circles the war._

 _I hope overall that some of you can relate and follow this story as something personally understandable. Though, I hope less of you experience the understood._

 _Enjoy the chapter._

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

 _ **From The Quiet School Grounds**_

The grounds of Hogwarts before the start of term is something incredible. A quiet luxury of vast greenness and beautiful, natural life on ancient landscapes; a gift only granted to those who worked there. A truly amazing sight to see, the slow sets of waves from the pond lick the smooth, rockless sand of the beach as a flute can be heard playing from the lips of the half-giant, Hagrid, the live-in groundskeeper, who lives in his hut and would play with with the rise of the birds and each turn tonight.

There were no students yet, no noise of chatter, no running of steps, no chaos of pranks, no fighting of children.

Nothing.

Only him, the empty halls, and the handful of staff who would gather in the weeks before the start of term.

Years came and went and within these weeks, Severus would find his only solace under the sun. It was a time he enjoyed and could often be found walking the gravel paths in silent peace, alone. But, like everything else Severus had learned and gained, this was temporary. At the start of the school year, he would slip inside his darkened dungeons, into a thriving world of shadows that he had built in empty classrooms and behind forgotten doors.

...

Severus did not like the massive crowds. He did not like the speech of the many at once. He had had enough of madness in his life, but chaos is what he currently saw as he looked out into the feeding Great Hall that very first day of the new term. He had lost his appetite at first sight at the massive gorging and had his eyes on the Daily Profit instead. He was reading of a Ministry break-in that he knew all the shadowed details of, his eyes sitting on the print statement of the money reward for any information.

"An opinion," A woman's voice rose from his side and would continue without him giving any acknowledgment to, "would the money really be worth it?"

It was Minerva who asked and referred to what he was staring at.

The woman who had been sitting at his side at the head table since Severus's first day of teaching.

The colleague Severus had once called, Professor.

"Honestly?" he sighed, "No."

"Why?"

Once every day. One meal of three, one time in the staff room. One point of the day for the entire span of his teaching career, the older woman with the tightly bunned hair and piercing, spectacle protected eyes had always made sure to talk to him, to get him to respond, to say anything back to her. Anything. At some point, this would happen, and apparently, that time was now.

"Because," He straightened slightly in his seat and for the first time his neck and eyes titled to meet the witch who sat on his side, "It's a one time payment for what becomes a permanent, forced, arrangement."

"Hm."

Satisfied with words and even more with the added eye contact and thought to his words, Minerva was done and unless he prompted another conversation, which he would on other occasions, she wouldn't talk to him for the remainder of the meal.

Quietly, creating a quiet space within the chaos, Severus falls back into his mind and into the words of the paper before him.

* * *

 ** _From the Wide Brown Eyes in Great Hall._**

She was watching him. Watching him from the Gryffindor table. Watching him as she spoke to her friends. She watched him as she took in a hearty meal from her plate.

Maybe not _watching_ him. Watching people is rude. She was learning him. She was noticing for the most numerous of times that he didn't eat.. That his fork remained cold and on the table next to his empty plate, his eyes on the paper that was nearly camouflaged against the deep wood of the head table.

She had seen that he rarely looked out onto the students while the crowd was eating. He only seemed to scan below when their eyes were busy, and tables empty.

She saw that Minerva, The head of Gryffindor, speak to him and she noticed that he responded without a snarl or what she could tell as a bite to his tone.

She saw it all and so did, Ginny.

Ginny hadn't told a soul about what Hermione pulled from under her pillow, nor did she ever straightforward address Hermione herself. In the past year, Ginny had noticed a decline with Hermione. She talked less, moved less. She was distracting herself with everything she could and for whatever reason, one of those distractions became, Snape. Ginny would admit that it was true that Hermione hid it all well. That if you weren't watching you wouldn't see that the book studious silence had turned into a heavy bleakness searching for a distraction. There had been something there that summer break, a sadness from her friend that Ginny couldn't shrug away.

She would talk to her.

Soon.

Just not tonight.

* * *

 _ **From the 'Criminal' at the Head of the Dusty Table**_

Showered and washed, he sits in a clean purple and gold robe and clothes set that hangs over his unhealthy form as his neck length hair hangs wavy and clean for the first time this week. He sits at the head of a dusty kitchen table, his body cast in flickering candlelight, the darkness at his back seeping over of his shoulders and exposing only that of the outline of the closest of the old, dusty kitchen appliances around him.

He is not alone, but says nothing, nor looks at the man across the table.

That man who sits across, his name is Remus Lupin, and he looks just as tired as Sirius Black.

They are both exhausted, worn, and beaten men. Locked away in a home for not even the eyes of light will accept them anymore.

They are forsaken, and in this, they find comfort in each other.

But, that was then and is not anymore. Now they are silent, the warmth of their schools day's gone as too many bodies are missing from the chairs around the table. They are indeed very broken people in a world where they are the last remaining of a pack no one thought could break.

Sirius takes from the glass and swallows hard as the burn singes his throat.

But, it feels good.

It feels good because at least it's something felt. He sighs and falls into the chair and blackness of his old, haunted home.

...

That night the lives of many will mirror in perfect mimic. Time will be spent, many will utter at least something small to someone else, and then they will crawl into their bedchambers and stare into the darkness until sleep covers their eyes.

Tomorrow is another day, different only in assigned scheduling.

Tomorrow is class, the start of the school year, the beginning t another day.

Tomorrow will be the same as yesterday.

But, tomorrow will come for all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Still writing this way until I come up with a plot. Idea's? Let me know!  
**

* * *

 _ **From the Classroom:**_

Through the haze of the cauldron steam, her eyes stall, cast onto the slender, vampiric form of her professor who sits behind his large deep brown wooden desk. She watches him as he works because she had finished her notes long ago and her mind once studious had slipped into dreams. Though he does not look up, she wonders if he can feel her. The heaviness of her eyes, the blind irritation. She wonders if she is important enough to call upon his ability to locate her lingering gaze.

An ability built after trauma. An ability she wanted, an ability she failed at, and ability that would keep her safe, and an ability that -

"Fifteen points from Gryffindor, Mrs. Granger."

His eyes had remained on the papers, his quill scribing on, but his words... His cold, iced words that came with such a lacking of human experience, for a moment she believed she imagined it. But she hadn't. Hermione would go on to hear the creaking of chairs as weight is shifted and suddenly, she feels the class of eyes drop on her like a blanket of bricks.

Even now, he still did not look up and Hermione found a gnawing inside herself as a sense of violation seeped under her skin. Because of him, she turns her eyes downcast, glazed in embarrassment.

He's a git, she thinks to herself under burning cheeks as the Slytherin side of the room breaks out in a small wave of chuckles and passive but hurtful comments...

 _He's nothing but a sallow murderer_ \- A sudden dark thought pangs through her mind and into her gut.

Hermione, nor the rest of the class would see the breaking of the Professors expression. The grotesque twist of his lip that curled at the murmur of life in front of him as the girls cheeks shaded as red as Ginny's hair.

 _ **I Hear and See It All.**_

"Back to work!" his voice would bite angrily across the babbling room, hushing the chuckles and snide comments as the glares of those who protected the foolish girl would hold on him from a few moments longer.

Work was everything. Work was all it was. Work would keep him sane. Work would keep them safe.

He had been listening to the mind of Ms. Granger since the first year and the reason behind that he placed out of … safety…? It was a sentence he could never end with a definite thought or reason. He watched her mind because she constantly thought of, Potter. The thought of their plans, thought of their next moves, her mind was open and analytical, but lately, since the start of the new year, her mind had been very dark.

Oh, if the students could comprehend how easy it was for him to read everything. How easily he could feel the emotions of each pinpointed person. He could hear everything. Always.

To invade the minds of those around him, especially minors was something he rarely did, but he had held a connection through the request of the Headmaster. A request that churned his stomach and pulled up shadowed thoughts of his darkness. He couldn't help what he heard when his own attention was low and they stared at him first and connected to him without walls. They didn't know what they thought floated in the air for anyone of the most basic skill to intercept. They couldn't hear him of course, he had walls which was why when it came to children, allowing them in only disgusted him further.

But sometimes he couldn't choose. He needed to know where everyone was at every time. To not know whose eyes were on you was dangerous, and to be vulnerable like that was to be weak…. To be a coward…

 _"I bet,"_ He hears her again over the settling crowd, his eyes dropping again to Mis Granger whose thoughts were hateful and loud, " _He is_ _n't even loyal to the Order."_

His fist slams on the desk and he is to his feet at once, all thought, all noise of the room dying at once. He glares at Potter for no other reason than to not stare at Granger directly, though his peripherals target the girls now shocked face and silent mind.

He looks around once before he slowly lowers himself back into his chair, down into the silence of nothingness. The room slips back to work, the ominous sound of scratching and breathing is again coupled with the sound of bubbling, cutting and the low conversation that would lull him into a sort of relaxation that would keep him down and quiet for the rest of the lesson.

 _ **To The Sun, As I Sit Inside.**_

"The sunlight is good for you." They tell him. "You should go outside."

But, there is never rarely any real sun in England, and there aren't many places for him to go without people recognizing him.

"It's about going outside."

"It's about breathing fresh air."

"It's about absorbing nature."

Unable to stand the four walls of the confinement of his space, he will tread outside but only when it's dark and his face can not be seen. Until then, until he musters the strength to step outside the dusty threshold of his modern cell, he dives to drink it all away as his surroundings falter into something beautiful..

What happened to his lovely cousin, Narcissa? Sirius Black thinks. All those years they used to play. All the time they spent together.

What about Harry?

What about, Harry.

He is drunk now and watches the dust as it holds suspended in the air, illuminated by the haze of light that comes through the heavy curtains.

Harry.

Lily.

James.

….Snape.

His broken, wolfish teeth grit as he thinks of the man who ruined his entire life.

Snivellus.

His fingers tighten around the bottle and he thinks back to Azkaban as his eyelids flutter in drunken exhaustion.

How did he end up so good? How did he end up in the cell next door to him with nothing but a half rusty metal grate and half stone wall between them? How was he released so quickly..? A mockery it was, the man's stay. Snivellus entered with what was a promised life sentence and he quickly fell into the standard depression. It took days until their voices faded from their arguing screams and the many weeks to follow would be spent in silence, sitting on their separate beds that had been pushed against the furthest walls across from each other, their attention set, eyes glaring, either not moving for hours. There was nothing more they could do after the fire of their anger faded and together they would disappear into the walls to live out their lives like this.

It would only be a few months later when the guard would come with his keys in hand, a gleam in his eyes.

Snivellus would be released for crimes admitted that day while he, the innocent and the wrongly convicted would wither away in a silence for all the years to follow. He still couldn't believe Snivellus had been released, and it had taken him days to realize the truth that the Slytherin git would not be returning.

As the memory of the emotion hit him again, he shivers, an anger sets in that would break the haze of any drunken spur. A confirmed admitted murderer and Dumbledore hires HIM as a teacher. Confirmed fatal poisonings, but he's teaching Potions. An active Deatheater life and he gets out only a few months after sentencing for a crime worse than his.

What seemed to only be a life of cell to cell now, Sirius slips away from his current, imagining where the world had broken; somewhere in that final year of Hogwarts when everything still made sense.

His stomach churns and threatens to reject the bile and booze that sits inside, his toxic haze breaking for the understanding that Severus... Snivellus, had ended up with more friends, more family, more support, and more of a future than he could ever have now.

That lucky, motherfucker…


	4. Self Medicate

**Self Medicate.**

* * *

 _ **From The Dusty Pages and the Faded Pages.**_

"Hermione, are you okay?"

The start of conversation was a strange one, but Ginny had asked it as her icebreaker and Hermione stumbled with the books in her arm that she was holding as a response.

"What?" Hermione asked.

Ginny had chosen the library to talk to Hermione. Somewhere that the boys rarely traveled to, a spot where they could have next to silence.

"You just.. you seem like you're stressed." She tried.

"Well, yeah, Ginny." Hermione scoffed nervously, "It's school."

"That's what I kinda wanted to bring up."

"Whats going on?" Hermione said suddenly, turning to fully face Ginny placing the books on the small wooden plank table at her side.

"Okay." Ginny started, falling into the seat beside her, Hermione quickly following suit. "The last few months, I've noticed you've been upset. Outside of school and everything you just seem... sad.."

"Well.." Hermione started, looking away, "It's been a hard year, I'm tired a lot, school is zapping my energy, things with the Order.." Hermione chuckled of the muggle pun until she noticed Ginny didn't get it.

"Hermione, I'm scared to."

"Ginny, I don't really want to do this," Hermione coaxed trying to avoid the rising anxiety.

"Hermione, It's okay to talk to me."

"I know.." Hermione bit her cheek.

"I just.. I don't want you to be sad.."

"I know, Ginny."

"Please, tell me what's wrong."

"I… I have to go."

Hermione flew up from her seat as she felt her heart slam and tears threaten to fall. She ignored Ginny as she called after her, and heard the hiss of the librarian that followed that. She didn't know why she acted the way she did but as she escaped through the large pair of doors, she walked briskly down the busy hall, seeking silence and solitude.

So she traveled up. Higher and higher into the towers, she climbed step over step until she was the only one in the stairwell that housed rooms used mainly for storage. Unsatisfied and now feeling catastrophic, she continued her way up the spiral stone staircase, focused on the top and the briskness of the outside air. Slowing down as her legs began to protest she'd occasionally test the wooden doors as they came, but found all locked until one closed door opened with the turn of the handle. Freezing in front of the door that looked just as all the others had, she immediately smelled the scent of burning from the inside and watched as a small puff of the smoke wavered out from the top of the door as she pushed it open. No noise came from within the room, not living movement except for what she felt was a person pulling themselves inwards and the feeling of trying to hide. Hermione looked around the small, oval room stacked with boxes, picture frames and desks, and breathed in the fresh smell of tainted smoke.

"Hello?" She called out, stepping fully into the space.

Someone was burning something and that someone was in the room and she knew this.

Stepping back, she closes the door and stands before it, her hands behind her back and spread over the wood.

"I'm not leaving.' She informed.

"Of course you're not." A darkened response came clear as Professor Snape's figure stepped into the silhouetted light of the domed, stained glass window that matched the height of the wall across from her. "It would be far too much to expect Ms. Granger to leave a situation that has nothing to do with her."

"Professor." She greeted.

"Ms. Granger." He'd return coldly.

His voice was dull and listless, his eyes that watched hers was not his usual anger, but in an irritated calmness.

"I'm sorry to have.. Umm.. walked in on.-"

"Nothing." He finished for her. "You walked in on nothing and you were leaving now because you are bored of this empty room and chose to move on."

"Are you smoking?"

The question came out for reasons she didn't truly understand. Some of it was because she didn't find a reason to care. She was feeling numb, careless….

Depressed...

"Is that really your business?" He asked and she noticed right away he hadn't answered.

"It would be the headmasters."

What the hell was she doing!? She thought as the words she just said reran in her mind. She was pretty sure she had just blackmailed the Head of Slytherin.

"Excuse me?" his voice dripped of venom.

Yup, she realized with a heart falling feeling, she just tried to blackmail, Professor Snape.

"What is this, Ms. Granger? Do you want some or do you need something else?" He mocked an invite uncharacteristically as he looked away with a huff.

She shrugged. "Depends."

What was going on with her, she didn't know, but now she found herself under his glare, a glare she saw he had issues pulling on the full extent of out.

"Okay, Ms. Granger." Her head snapped up and her eyes widened slightly, "Fine. This one time, in a motion you will never see again and no one will believe when you tell them, I will..." Looked her up and down ." _Le_ _vel_ with you if it means you leave and never come back through this threshold again or speak of this meeting."

"Fine."

He turned his lip up at her in disgust as he began, "Teaching is a straining job."

"Understandable." She confirmed his words and pushed him for more which reserved her another glare.

"And, I'm relaxing."

"Maybe I need to relax."

"Are you propositioning me, Ms. Granger?" His voice raised, though she knew the room was protected as well as she bet, locked.

"No." She shook her head, "Just, if you gave me the option of relaxing also, maybe I'd be less annoying during class."

"So, blackmail and bribery."

He almost look proud of her but she knew better, as she knew her place.

"Blackmailing would be if I was threatening you... _Professor._ And we both know I'm not in the position to threaten a man such as yourself."

The sentence was full of underlying meanings, darkness and weight. A weight that seemed to throw the usually walled man off balance and bring him to momentary silence as her topic of choice nerved him.

"No, you're not in that position, are you?" He voice purred darkly.

"No."

"Get out."

"Professor."

"Shut up!" He ordered, his voice rising. "Do you think this is my first time being walked in on? Do you not think I can find another time, another place, another way where you will never find this again. Go tell the Headmaster whatever you wish to tell him. There is no point where, and excuse my language, Ms. Granger, I give a damn."

"Then let me stay if you don't care."

"You have class."

"No, I don't. Not until Monday." She informed, fighting him past anything he had fought before with her. She didn't care and was clearly fighting tonight, and that was her weapon she found working against him.

"Ms. Granger," Where his voice once put fear into her, she felt nothing, "I'm one comment from taking all the house points from Gryffindor for this and many more reasons."

"And what will that do to me personally?"

Again, silence.

"You're really testing me now, Ms Granger."

Indeed this was a rush for her. A wave of lacking reason she didn't understand but chose to rise the current anyway.

"Good thing we are in a school and you're my teacher. It's almost like testing is supposed to happen here."

"Get out."

"Fine."

And she did. Without another word, without another glance, she turned around and left to descend the stairs and walk straight to her common room where she would sit on her bed with the curtains drawn and lose herself for an about an hour, thinking about what she did and said with a racing heart and sweating forehead.

* * *

 _ **Something for Each and Every One of Them.**_

"Don't you care about yourself?"

The answer was no.

"Don't you want to be okay again?"

The answer was none.

When there wasn't a way to feel better, feeling better was just a phrase.

It was the one thing they all had in common. They all no longer cared. They all found their lives just spending. They sat across from those they once loved and stared blankly where once they felt the warmth. Those locked in silence felt the same emptiness as those in bright, busy halls while each saying the other had it better.

They are here, and they walk through time in a haze. In their mind, in their words, a disconnection has erupted, and no one yet is ready to say anything of it.

Hermione took pills from a container and turned her eyes towards sharp, slices of pain to break her darkness. Severus took from pipes and bottles while avoiding what Sirius had found, using what once destroyed the Professor, now rejoiced under a needle and tie on the skin of the dog.

For now, they will self-medicate, but life is not about to become bright and they all know this.

Eventually, there will be meetings, there will be more running into. There will be more exposure towards their silent suicides and in time, each will find their healings.


	5. Chapter 5

_**another night.A/n** Ehhhhh. Maaaybe Goblet of Fire….? I just feel like at this point I should have a time stamped out and started… Or at least an idea of a year… I don't know. This story is more of a writing therapy than anything else._

 _I do hope you enjoy it though!_

* * *

 **From Regret and an Impulsive Heart.**

She just needed some time alone, Hermione reasons to herself although she meant to express it out loud as passed by those who greeted her warmly.

She was almost jogging down the rocky hilly path by now.

Her feet almost matching the racing of her heart.

Pulling off the scattered stone steps, Hermione starts off to a secluded location between the castle and the lake where rocks jut out of the grassy, boulder scattered ground in sharp points like a forest of oddly shaped trees.

"Hermione!"

Ginny, Hermione realized and felt terrible when her heart fell into her chest. She slowed her steps but didn't stop them, allowing Ginny to catch up with her.

When she felt her hand cup her arm, she twists around sharply.

"What!" Hermione snapped far harsher than she meant to.

Ginny's face fell away and Hermione quickly picked herself up.

"Merlin! I'm so sorry, Ginny!" Her heart almost wept as she apologized to her friend. "I don't know what got into me."

"That's what I want to talk to you about!" Ginny tried sadly. "I'm scared for you, Hermione. How your acting..."

She looked into her friend's eyes and saw that Ginny cared, and yes, she did know how much her silence was hurting her friend. But what could she do? The darkness was so thick already and Hermione didn't want her friend, her so kind and innocent friend to fall into the same despair that she was in.

She wouldn't curse this feeling on Draco Malfoy himself. Not even after everything he's said.

Ginny was still young and had not experienced half of what her brother, Harry or she had. She couldn't understand what was going on, or what she was feeling.

She hurt for so many things.

She hurt for Harry, who was cursed with a life he didn't deserve or ask for and all the constant pain that came with it. She hurt for Ron, who wanted to be the brightest and the highest but was shoved into a life of seconds and shadows. She hurt for her family who didn't understand and that she saw that she was losing. She was hurt that no one remembered her birthday. She was hurt everyone remembered Harrys. She was hurt for those who she watched around her suffering greatly. She hurt for Professor Snape.

She hurt all the time about everything, and in all honesty, she didn't know how to handle it and knew if she couldn't, neither could Ginny.

"Ginny, please, I don't want to talk about this."

"Hermione, Please!" She pushed back, "I know you're hurting and I see how painful it is in your eyes. The last time I saw you really happy was.." The fact Ginny needed to think about it stung Hermione in the heart. "The Quidditch World Cup and.." her voice faded as the night was remembered.

"Ginny. I'm fine."

Ginnys face suddenly turned very hurt. "And now you're lying to me."

Hermione quieted and looked away. Her heart began to hurt again and for some reason, it just made her mad.

She wanted her silence.

She wanted her time alone, now.

"Please, Hermione."

Something in her mind snapped as did her tone and voice.

"Look Ginny! I said I'm fine! But if you really wanted to help me! You could just sod off for Merlin's sake! Bloody Hell!" Her voice was louder than she meant and by far greater in anger.

Ginny's face fell. "Well," She sniffed. "I'll be here if you want to talk. I love you, Hermione. You're my best friend."

"Yeah. Okay, thanks." She regrets everything about what she said as soon as she said it.

Hermione looked away so that she couldn't see the younger girls hurt face, and so that Ginny couldn't see hers.

A heat boiled when she didn't go. "Get out of here!" She almost yelled at Ginny who took off hurrying away.

Hermione let out a few heavy breaths as she stepped away and leaned her back against one of the tall stones. She didn't know why she just did that. She didn't know what came over her or made her so cross. It was just another pain that would grow in her.

From within the small gather of tall stone points, a dark chuckle erupted. She spun around and from behind a pillar stepped no other than, Professor Snape.

She didn't say anything, she only looked away embarrassed, her cheeks reddening in front of the man who sneered at her.

"That was all a tad harsh." he imposed.

"So you do have conscious limits to bad behavior," she whispered too loudly, regarding his own abusive temperament.

He said nothing, but when she made to come closer to the rocks, he quickly stepped out of sight and came out the other side of the stone. She watched him walk out of the gathering, and land a fair distance from her before wrapping his arms around his back.

"I'm not standing in a secluded section of anywhere with you, Ms. Granger." He informed. "Though, before my departure, I wish to give you some professorly advice."

Something struck her. He stood straight but his shoulders were loose. His face was stone, but the corners of his expression were relaxed.

"Did you just say, "Professorly?"

He faulted. She saw it, he knew it. He faulted just every so much before watching her eyes turn towards the stone he had been behind. She wanted to announce her victory in catching him again and mention his obvious mistake. But instead, she said something different.

"What's the advice?"

He's quiet for a few seconds, elevating her before dropping his defenses enough to speak again. She watches him in this moment, watches his strong jaw tighten and his fingers curl uncomfortably as he did when he wanted to leave a situation. She noticed his...

As if he knew she knew what she was thinking, he interrupted her and finally answered.

"I suggest you utilize the presence of those who care enough to ask and furthermore, bother to persist."

That was all he said and she kept her eyes on the grass ahead of her as she thought what he said over as he passes by.

"Professor!" She called aloud, stopping him in his steps a few yards ahead of her.

She watched him twist and turn to face her, eyebrow curling as his response.

"What if I don't know how?"

He was far enough away that whatever he said could be heard, but they were far enough away from anyone else to be heard anyway. Still, he stood silently for a moment, but stand he did. He was thinking, and Hermione just waited quietly.

"Five points from Gryffindor for being a waste of time." he turned and walked away.

She stood there in what she couldn't really call dumbfounded, because in reality how he acted was not out of the ordinary. Getting Professor Snape to give emotional advice… Well, that was as rare as seeing a vampire in the day. It just didn't happen, and Hermione reasoned that she shouldn't have been as surprised as she was.

Finally alone where she had wanted to be, somehow she didn't want this anymore as space felt cold and empty. She shivered and eventually walked away as well.

* * *

 **From Who That Can't Fathom The Current Situation**

All around him the sound of dishware clinks hundreds of times and echos against the hundreds of topics from the many different people, all at different tables, all at the same time. Private but social, strangers continue to sweep past and knives glint in the low candlelight as tables rotate people again and again.

This of all places was not a place for him and the only reason he was there was because of the woman who sat across from him, delicately eating from her plate while he sat with only a pint of beer before him.

Her name is Koan. And he hates her presence less than many other beings.

He is not forced to have her in his life. He is not forced to be where he was sitting now. She had invited him to meet her here a week ago, and he had said yes but why she asked was beyond him. Why he asked her here the time before that time was further lost by him. But she had asked him the time before that one, which again, made no sense to him in the slightest.

She wasn't talking. Something he would feel strange about if she would have talked all that much the other nights they had shared a spot in gut-churning chaos. They were quiet, and within their quiet, he had found a sense of calmness.

Koan was like him when it suited her but she was more like a blanket of smoke under a burning fire than anything else.

Like a blanket of smoke under a burning fire….

That's a good one, and if he was anyone else, he would have said it aloud but he didn't. He kept it in where it belonged.

Together, they stay until her plate is empty and his beer mug had filled then emptied again. During this time, she even gets him to eat something. A bite off her fork, but still more than he expected.

She doesn't mention it.

She never does.

He notes that she smiles three times. Twice towards him during their few conversations that night, and once towards her own plate.

Even though he wouldn't read her mind, he knew she wasn't smiling at the meal.

At the end, the two would pay down the middle because they would fight over it if were any other way. They would leave together and they would walk aside the snow-covered business hugging sidewalks with their flickering lit windows that contained books, artifacts and the occasional tail flicking cat. They didn't speak much at all in the few hours they were together, but once the lit path was met with the breaking night, she would turn to him as she crossed the line.

Here, she is the night and he is the day, but she smiles at him still, something warmer than anything he could produce.

Four.

"I had a wonderful time, Severus." She says quietly, as she shifts her weight and meets his eyes.

"As did I." He nods his head. The only movement on his otherwise stiff form after his hands are slipped into his jacket pockets.

It's not awkward for them, he hopes. Their departure was not an event that was usually drawn out or emotionally compromising, but in its own way, was happy and left open for further communication.

He's about to turn away when suddenly she says something new.

"I was wondering..." She stops as he turns back to her and resets his posture. He can tell she's slightly embarrassed but he knows she will continue. "I know you don't get another night off for while, so I understand if you don't…"

He notes that she is rambling but patiently waits, watching her with his hands in his pockets, and hood over his head.

She suddenly stops talking and smiles at him. A warm smile that matches her eyes.

That's five.

Closing her eyes she points her smile away and starts again with a small laugh.

"Severus, next time you're available, do you think I could treat you to one of my home cooked meals."

It's quiet again.

"Severus?"

He doesn't like that she's so nervous so he pushes something out.

"I don't think you're allowed to use the restaurants' kitchen."

It was a stupid reply, but a reply that made her laugh. Laughing was good, but he still looked away.

"I meant at my flat."

He doesn't answer her. He only nods and she smiles again.

Six. A record.

"Well, goodnight, Severus Snape."

"Good Night, Koan VaLaier."

He watches her fade away into the darkness and magic of her travel and waits until he stands alone, his toes on the edge of the light. He sighs into the chilly darkness before turning around and going back to the pub for another drink or three.

Woman always seemed to stress him out.

* * *

 **The Padding the Worn Floors.**

He's found his old bedroom again.

A spot he hates and never goes into.

He's found the corner his back always slides down just the same way.

He holds her picture.

A girl he once kne and loved very much.

A girl he will never see again.

A girl that if she were even still alive, wouldn't want to see him anyway.

Who was he?

Sirius Black.

Was that it?

Just a name?

…..Was he dead?

He had never killed anyone.

He had never cut off a man's finger..

Completely..

He smiles when he thinks of Snape and the time James shut the door so hard on his fingers they heard them crack.

James…

He'd rather it have been Harry than James.

He'd rather it have been Remus than James.

His eyes spring open and his breath catches in his throat.

He didn't mean that... He did but... He didn't.

He loved Remus. He loved him in this confusing way that didn't make sense but a feeling they had both felt mutually for a long long time.

Him, gay? Now, that would be the last string and he should just turn in his last name and ask for a new one right then.

Although…

Running his fingers down his chest, he feels when Remus touched him there. Cupping his hand he rubs the side of his neck as the memory breath warms his skin. He remembers Remus in ways he will never remember James.

Well, that's not true.. But it wasn't the same. He knew that for sure.

In a mess of both toxics and weakness, Sirius stands and stumbles to a table he never seems to stray too far from and falls to his knees before his vice.

 _Well, if there was anything to take away from all this,_ He thinks to himself as he gropes the table, _if I can give the greasy git one thing, it would be that he sure knows what makes all those thoughts go away._

Sirius drowns on the wooden floor of his childhood bedroom, lost inside a beautiful place that was his.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N - Hello again. Just the normal notes here.

This chapter is replaced with this because I didn't like the feel of the last version. Also, this isn't like a story, story. It's more a release of directed thoughts so while it holds a sort of plot, it's kinda... ADD meets Mood Disorders. So.. Moody/Jumpy POVS with obscure titles, I guess. lol.

Anyway. I Hope you guys enjoy the new chapter!

* * *

 _ **The Breaking Point**_

War is here.

The end is near.

Maybe not the end to some of these people, but it is the end of many things still.

There is no stopping the world. There is no stopping the days to come. There is no escape unless inserted by one's own hand.

War is stressful, the war is near, so some actions are forgiven when at other times they would not be. There is a darkness that follows all, and it is a darkness everyone is experiencing. It is a darkness they can share and understand together.

Ginny has an understanding of Hermione's darkness now. The words she said now made sense. Ron isn't in school anymore. He's not even home. He's out there, and she… Well, she doesn't know where she is either. A safe house, her mother, and father told her when she came home from the school she was alone in.

She hadn't understood many things before now. She hadn't understood war, she hadn't understood evil, and she hadn't understood death. But now... Now with the things the way they were, how could she not fear.

How could she not cry over what she didn't know?

What if Harry is already dead?

Was Hermione?"

Ron?

Where's Ron?

Ginny turns onto her side and hugs her knees to her chest, biting her lip hard enough to feel the pain of her heart in the pain of her flesh.

It helps. But it doesn't cure it.

She's sleeping in a room with her brothers now and she mustn't let them know she's crying.

….

 _ **Wolf Where? And You're Not Here.**_

Remus has always understood the darkness.

So has Sirius Black, and unlike the rest, they are lucky because they have each other and two to travel the same darkness is quite a rare thing to find indeed.

It's something to be treasured, but is easily missed and almost never recoverable.

But, as often the case, they are not together now, and this will destroy them both even if one doesn't know that yet. They need each other, but it will not be.

Yet…

 _ **Into the Mirror and Out of Here**_

The one with shoulder length, greasy black hair has woken from a nightmare again.

But this is different because the nightmare wasn't a dream it was a vision.

A vision of what is to come…

The bathroom door closes out the bedroom. The small candles flicker on and Severus grasps the sink with knuckles that will turn as white as the porcelain.

He then throws up and as he rises, he catches himself the mirror.

He had broken this mirror…

He had broken the one before that, and the one before that. He had broken every bathroom mirror over and over again and instead of getting the hint, the school would replace the damage without him having to know.

 _"Little conveniences and all that..."_

Little motions to relieve teachers of little stresses… But this was a motion that would not relieve him.

He's catching his breath like he had just run a marathon, his image ashen in the ghostly light. He's sweating enough for him to count the drops that fall down his face and under his loose clothing. Ghostly, he has black circles that tint around his reddened eyes and this is when he freezes.

He catches his eyes. Something he never does because meeting eyes with himself will lock him in on the flaws the world can see, as well as the flaws only he knows are there. He sees scars he knows they can't. He knows there are scars they could see that are littered on his body and that sit on the edge of every sentence he says.

His jaw clenches.

He vomits anyway.

Sweat drenched and shivering, as he eyes himself in the darkness of the bathroom mirror with only the flickering of the sparsely littered candles to see, he stares.

He leans forward over the sink slowly.

His breath is slow by now as he touches his throat, first with the tips of his fingers as if his skin were something very hot, then sliding his hand inward, his fingers following the curvature of his throat.

The sweat falls like blood and Severus Snape will be standing where he is, like he is, for a long time to come, haunted by the silent ghosts of what he never asked to know.

He will break the mirror eventually and then he'll go back to bed.

…..

 _ **The Regret of Procrastination**_

She's alone but it is still not the same sort of alone she had felt through her days at school.

The red flags were there, but only Ginny had ever said anything. But Ginny had stopped asking months ago.

She had stopped because Hermione Granger had taken Professor Snape's advice and told her everything. It was one night, late at night, Hermione broke her soul open to the one person she promised she would. And she did. And surprisingly, in a motion, she would never admit to anyone…

Severus Snape was right with his emotional advice.

He knew how to help her and for whatever reason that pulled her closer to him.

How did he know?

If he could help her that means he experienced it… S? ExperienceS? He could help her. He could help her have more good days than bad days, he could help her learn brewings to aid beyond this terrible medication.

He knew the darkest part of her, and beyond that, he seemed to be the only one who helped.

Ginny hadn't understood. She… she hadn't been mature enough to and for that, Hermione wouldn't be angry with her.

The boys were too busy with themselves and saving the world to really notice anything about her. They also held less emotional connection to where they never really asked her about anything. She was just there to help.

 _She just did the book work._

 _She just knew the spells._

 _She just knew what they didn't._

She feels something within her churn.

 _If they were driven they didn't need her…_

 _If they did the homework, half of their life answers could be found._

 _She was their card out of thinking so they could be brazen._

She feels bad, but she also feels that this is true.

 _She's not needed. She was never needed…_

 _Not until Ron ran away…._

 _Not until Ron abandoned them.._

Her eyes narrow angrily.

Harry was stubborn, but there was a reason he wasn't in Ravenclaw. There were lapses in the drive to learn and reason. There was a particular nuisance in the boy who wanted to do everything, but knew nothing of much nor took the time to find out.

But she loved Harry.. She loved Ron.. But...

But..

But…..

But, if Ron hadn't left when he had, it would have been her as she had been thinking about leaving since the start.

She opens her eyes to her current surroundings and finds herself laying in the bed she fell asleep in, still facing the tan wall. Sighing, she turns around in the cot and looks around the enchanted tent.

Beautiful, yes. The first of the morning sun is waking the first of the earliest birds who sing their morning songs. Outside the tent is the beautiful forest. They are safe for the most part. But situationally…...

Situationally, she just wanted to rip her heart out and disappear.


	7. Carrier Pigeons

**Carrier Pigeons.**

The war is more than over.

The dust has more than just settled and the structures have since been replaced and renewed.

It's almost like the war has never happened, and in another few rotations all of the war that will remain will be stories told by elders.

It is a scary thing to think that for a few individuals the war has not yet gone. Homes are built and families are had, but still the war continues on behind the eyelids of the sleeping and in the minds of the traumatized.

There's a lot of "should-bes" now.

Harry "should be" able to sleep through the night.

Hermione "should be" able to enjoy every day.

Ron "should be" getting married.

Arthur "should" have made peace with Percy before his death.

Molly "should" have told him she loved him one more time.

And Ginny "should be" comfortable around men.

Tonks "should be "in love with the newborn she held in her arms.

Remus "should be" excited to start a family.

And Sirius "should be" happy for them both.

But Harry hasn't slept through the night in weeks and Hermione isn't happy as she sits alone in a home she bought to be alone in. Ron isn't getting married to the bushy haired girl he loves, and Arthur and Molly will never get another chance. Ginny shys away from the boyfriend who attempts to touch her as Tom had, Tonks hates picking up the child and doesn't understand why and Remus does the work because Tonks doesn't and Sirius hadn't seen his best friend in months.

But there is one more.

Another story to be told. Another breathing member to remember.

There is Severus Snape who should be dead but isn't.

Why is it that when the world smiles there are those who are immune to the radiant warmth? How could a person be so cold that even the sun won't penetrate the blackness? There is no room for pleasant dreams of kind and happy things when such a shock has yet to fade and continues to cloud the mind. Why are there always questions to be asked that seem to go unanswered? Why are there always other paths that should have been taken?

Why are there always so many questions….. So many damn unanswered questions?

The world is much quieter now.

The dust has turned over and has been swept away from the sight. The once wet blood has since dried and been washed away from the stone. No one sees the marks of war these days unless it's those who were there to witness to the devastation.

It's late, and the world is dark again.

The alcohol is out, weakness breaks, the people who are lonely feel the rotting of their soul as they lay for another few hours. Just because someone is sleeping doesn't mean they are resting. Nightmares are draining, and this is something they would all have in common except for those who have found their vices.

The Half Blood Prince has awoken from a blackness and complete devastation. He's away from the world that took him. Away from the school that drained him. Away from those that raised him. And he has not been here alone. But those who know him are unknown to many others, you wouldn't know them, and I doubt you could find out if you tried.

That night there's something in the air. A feeling carried in the talons of owls who are moving towards people who are not expecting such a wash of memory. The letters information is simple, it's unidentifiable script is perfect and uniform as the words are written by magic, not hand. The paper and envelope are made up of cheap and inexpensive material; the ink, a cheap and basic blend of a mass sold product. There was nothing individualized about these messages, but there is a stamp that seals each one in the form of a blue wax stamp with that of an image resembling a rising phoenix pressed in.

 _Dinner Party._

 _Dennovans Crosses._

 _Room 7._

 _8pm._

 _Casual Dress._

 _No +1_

Every invitation is exactly the same for each person who finds themselves holding one. Exactly the same, save for the name of the person the letter was was meant for. The matching, dark blue wax seal will be broken open and will be noticed by all as they do.

Minerva Mcgonagall opens her letter from the height of the astronomy tower on the eve of a beautiful cloudless sunset. She's headmistress of the school now, and is rather enjoying the job. It keeps her busy and her mind on many things. She needs a new teacher and has a few people in mind. She sighs to herself as she looks up from the parchment and out into the world that stretches before her. She has been given an opportunity and will take it. It doesn't take much to convince her.

Minerva doesn't know who sent this message, but she's they did.

Hermione Granger sits with her mother and father in the living room of her childhood home. She's dressed in expensive robes with little patches of dust here and there from her travel over. She's holding her own letter with two hands, eyeing how delicately her name is spelled. She's excited, and wonders who else will be there. Discussing this with her parents who knew everything, she quickly comes to the conclusion she'll be attending.

Hermione is a Ministry member now. Working in the muggle and magic relations department, she's living a perfect life. But a sad one also. It's been a long time since the Order got together, even longer that some had been seen.

Sirius Black sits up against the backboard of the bed as to his side a shirtless Remus is laying on his stomach next to him asleep. He's looking over their invitations again, using the light of the moon against the cold light tan parchment. He flips over the pages of what could have been hundredth time and still, he can't find a sender's address or the name of a host. Just the sigil of the phoenix imprinted on the bottom of each page and into the wax. He takes a deep swig of his vodka that had been sitting on the side table as he reads the words again, grimacing as he thinks of Severus and how he promises over and over how hard he would punch that git in the face at first sight.

But he can't.

He can't because that man is dead and in the years that had passed since the end of the war, Sirius has found that perhaps Severus was the lucky one after all. He and Remus are sure to attend but not together. This is unsaid but true, and Sirius washes Remuses feeling about that away with another hard sip of the drink as he flips the pages over again.

Ginny wraps her boyfriend slowly as she sinks into his side, her own letter held in her hand. Lit by the flickering firelight the two hug each other and talk excitedly about what she will see when she goes. Of course, she's going. Why wouldn't she? The expensive wedding ring flashes in the fireplace like a cold storm as Ginny hugs the man she feels love for tightly, taking the opportunity to allow her face to crack to nervousness when he couldn't see her.

Ginny doesn't know who sent the letter, but she knows there if she got one so had others and out of them all, there is one person she's the most nervous to see again.

George walks into the day room where his brother sits. He's holding his envelope a bird just delivered and sees Fred turn around holding his. Fred is, of course, joyous, but is not in the best of health and is riddled with damages and a far broken soul. The brother will assure his twin and then Fred smiles, mentioning something about how this will be good for him.

To be able to close doors is vital for healing his doctors have said, and Fred really wants to get out of this hospital.

Tonks sits alone in a very quiet house. Her head is resting on her hands and her eyes are gazing out the small cottage window. She breathes out slowly as she drums her fingers over the paper signed with her name. If this really is what she thought this was, she will go for Remus. She agrees with herself and nods her head even though the man who should be here, isn't. She wasn't a stranger to the small group who remained in the area. She had dinners with the Weasleys, coffee with Kingsley and a drink with Minerva on occasion still. If not for Remus, and if this is truly what she thinks it is, she will also go in hope of seeing Severus Snape again. She knows he's dead, but then again she doesn't because a body was never buried. Her hair turns red as she thinks of Sirius then dull blue as she thinks of her once much loved husband who fell away from her in grief and trauma.

Tonks flips the parchment looking for a sender but locates none. She finds that odd but still she has already decided. She will go for herself to show that she is no longer broken.

Kingsley pushes away the thought of yes or no's as he knew without a thought he would attend. He was busy, guarding the Minister who was currently on his way out, and whose right he must protect. He smiles as he walks down the hall adjusting the cuffs of his robe. Whoever this was, was doing something good.

The rest of the Weasleys all open their letters together and had waited specifically for Charlie and Flur and their two children, older brother Salve and baby, Aurora. Charlie sits aside his father, Ron besides Bill. They sit around the long wooden table of the newly built, lavishly done Burrow but there are some chairs that remain cold and empty. They count down loudly where upon landing on one, the seal is broken and the letters are read. They think of Ginny and smile and talk of Harry. They speak of George and then ponder if Fred will choose to come. If Fred will be allowed to come….

A waver of a smile is passed but they will all hope for the best; for the return of their family as one again. As much as they could of course. Percy is not forgotten.

And then there's Severus Snape. A person that would pass the mind of many that night. There was a rumor of his life but it was a word that bordered on myth at this point. Only one article had been published since his mysterious disappearance from his St. Mungo's bed, and one blurry picture of a man who resembled him was ever posted along with it. That was over a year ago now, and nothing since filled a single square of the one paper it was published in.

But someone somewhere knows where to find the man because, on the eve of that same night, Severus Snape is breaking the seal of the letter addressed for him with a hand that only carries three fingers.

He's very tired now. He's energy is spent. The acid on his tongue no longer spits with a bark he can no longer produce. The war had taken most of his voice and in turn, his world. But he lived against all doubt and wants nothing more than to throw the parchment down and move on.

He wanted this because he's had moved on.

He left behind all but three, two of three only knowing because he knew the father. Draco Malfoy knew he was alive because Narcissa Malfoy knew that Severus was selling potions through Lucius Malfoy for profit. He doesn't want to be acknowledged and Lucius takes the credit proudly as his name is on each label and business card. The Malfoys willingly gave the silence and space Severus requested and besides the man's first initial contact to trade, nothing else had ever been passed between them.

That's it.. Well, except for Koan. But Koan is a different story. A story that isn't for now.

He shakes her out of his head and turns away from the thought. He stalls for a moment before taking the first step towards the bedroom. He sighs, leaving the parchment on the table as he walks away.


End file.
